Revisionist History
by Tycho
Summary: As the title says, from the very beginning.
1. Prologue: A Brand New Day

Revisionist History  
  
by Tycho  
  
Summary: what the title says, from the very beginning.  
  
Rating: Plain ol' G so far. Later who knows?  
  
Prologue: A Brand New Day  
  
'History. What a sucky way to start a new school career.' Buffy frowned. 'Especially when teach, being *very* enthusiastic about the Black Death, is asking for textbooks and maps and other things I don't have.'  
  
Buffy looked around at her neighbors, hoping to at leats catch a glemipse of what the teacher was talking about, her mother's parting words echoing in her ears. 'Try not to get kicked out.'  
  
Thankfully the brunette on her right was in a generous mood, and moved her text over so Buffy coukld examine the pertinent details. Later, as the bell rang to signify the end of the morbidness that was history, said brunette in very stylish outfit introduced herself.  
  
"Hi, I'm Cordelia." A hand was in the offering, a hand that Buffy was very grateful for. At least she wasn't fumbling over introductions like the boy in the hall earlier. Buffy smiled and gripped Cordelia's hand briefly. "I'm Buffy."  
  
The conversation continued as they both put books and such in bags in the way that only experienced students can, "If you want a textbook of your very own, there's probably a few in the library."  
  
"Oh, great, thanks. Where would that be?"  
  
"I'll show you, come on." Cordelia led the way out of the class room. "You're from Hemery, right, in LA?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
"I would kill to live in LA. That close to that many shoes!"  
  
Buffy giggled. Suddenly her life here had the possibility of normality. 'Wow, Mom might have actually been right. Making friends in no time.'  
  
As they entered another hall, Cordelia seemed to sense that. "You'll be OK here. If you hang with me and mine, you'll be accepted in no time. Of course, we do have to test your coolness factor." She looked Buffy up and down, appraising her appearance. "You're from LA so you can skip the written but, let's see.....vamp nail polish."  
  
"Ummm, over?"  
  
Cordelia rolled her eyes, "So over. Frapaccinos?"  
  
"Trendy, but tasty."  
  
"John Tesh."  
  
"The Devil."  
  
"James Marsters."  
  
Buffy looked very smug, withdrew her purse from her bag and opened it for Cordelia to see. Inside was a picture of Buffy in a fabulous dress and her date from the final dance at Hemery High. He had bleached white hair, impossibly high cheekbones and piercing blue eyes. A black leather duster was draped over the arm that wasn't around Buffy's waist. In the background, the gym was burning.  
  
"I'll introduce you sometime." 


	2. Chapter 1: Death and Unlife in LA

Chapter 1: Death and Unlife in LA  
  
The Slayer was dead, and another called to take up the burden, the sacred duty. Like many before her, she was . . . . petite. A tiny, blonde, *girl*. Difficult to believe that within this small body lay the power to avert an apocalypse, and keep the forces of darkness at bay so that humanity would be safe in their illusions about their place in the food chain.  
  
That was the idea. Vampires would look on her as easy prey, a meal just begging to be sampled, not expecting that their doom was but a beat of her heart away.  
  
And so it came to pass that Buffy Summers was Called on a starry night in the City of Angels. While regrettably frequent, the Calling of a new Slayer does not go unnoticed among those who watch for such things. Buffy Summers was not one of these people, and her new Calling went unnoticed by her world. Seers and prophets, magicians and necromancers, gods and demons, Watchers and certain powerful vampires. All these and more kept a close eye on history. Some would even help her shape it.  
  
Three such beings were vampires. Each could measure his age in generations, each with a different interest in the new Saviour of Humanity.  
  
The First, was Lothos. His age was lost to history, but he was the envy of his peers. For he had made a career out of achieving what perhaps one in a thousand vampires could do. The death of a Slayer. No decade went by without at least one Slayer dead by his hands. Lothos only had one thing on his mind when it came to Buffy Summers.  
  
The Hunt. In all his centuries of slaughter, Lothos had yet to figure out what was the best part of killing a slayer: the kill itself with her rich lifeblood pouring down his throat; or the festivites that preceded it.  
  
The Second was Angel, potential recruit for The Powers That Be. If not for the demon Whistler, he would have remained ignorant of current events, as he had often done since being cursed. With two and a half centuries under his belt, he had seen and experienced more that the world had to offer than most, even among those counted as immortal.  
  
He thought she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, and found an intense desire within himself. A desire to protect her from the type of evil that he had once been.  
  
Third was Spike. William the Bloody. The youngest of the three, he was no less fearsome. Two Slayers had fallen by his hand, and he relished the thought of fighting another. But that was not why he was here at this time. Spike had absolutely no interest in the Slayer herself, merely what she could do for him.  
  
William the Boody desired revenge.  
  
**********  
  
He'd been watching her for days. Or rather nights. He saw the watcher approach her on the steps of her high school. Saw her first encounter with newborns of his kind. Spike laughed when she dispatched a menacing hot dog. He heard her parents have yet another argument, this time over her choice of boyfriend.   
  
She wasn't the reason he had come to LA. He had tracked his sire across the country but found her instead. His sire was there of course, skulking in a blacked out car, but useless for his purposes. At this time Angel couldn't fight his way out of a wet paper bag.  
  
But the slayer....  
  
Spike found her on this night at the Pasadena Floats storage yard. He watched as she held her dying watcher's head in her lap, Lothos and the one armed flunky disappearing into the night. The boy had been unable to rouse her and eventually fled for fear of his life. Some places are just too creepy to stay in for long, and a graveyard of giant evilly grinning clowns and broken flamingoes is one of them.  
  
The perfect time and place to recruit the ally he needed.  
  
Spike emerged from the shadows slowly, so as not to startle her and find himself in need of a dustpan. Not that she was very much aware of her surroundings, or he with any real desire to continue his existence, but there were things to be done before he greeted the sunrise. He could hear the Slayer desperately trying to convince her mentor that he wasn't in fact dying, she wouldn't let him, blah, blah, blah. It was time to interrupt before things became any more maudlin.  
  
"You're dead." The Slayer looked up at him in confusion, blinking away tears of denial. "Or at least you would be if I had any intention of eating you." Spike crouched down next to her and addressed the watcher. "This must be a first, a watcher actually coming between Lothos and his meal."  
  
Merrick looked at this unusual vampire. Most just 'made with the growling and biting' as Buffy put it. Only the powerful made conversation with mortals. With blood flecking his lips, he asked, "And you are?"  
  
"Spike, William the Bloody." Recognition showed on the watcher's face. "I see you've heard of me. Don't worry, I won't eat her. Lothos was right about that much. She's not worth it."  
  
"Then why?.." Merrick coughed bringing more bloody foam to his mouth.  
  
"Easy old son, easy. Revenge on Lothos is what I want, but I can't do it alone. And neither can the Slayer. Together however...."  
  
Merrick considered the vampire briefly, for his time was short, then addressed his charge. "Buffy, go with him. He can achieve what I could not. With his help you can destroy Lothos and become what you're destined to be. Exceptional. For now you can trust him." Buffy's gaze flicked to the being that she should, by all rights, be plunging a stake into. Her thoughts showed on her face and in her eyes, making Spike give her a cocky smirk. "But Buffy, once it is over, once he gets his revenge. You must kill him all the more quickly. He is, after all, evil."  
  
"Couldn't have put it better myself, watcher. Be at peace, old man. She's in good hands. And don't worry, I'll call the council myself. No dirty scavenger demon'll pick you to bits, you deserve better than that."  
  
"Thank..." Merrick never finished that sentence, and for once Spike regretted the death of a mortal. This is what a man should be: brave, noble and dignified right to the end. 


End file.
